He had so hoped that there would not be a case but, of course, destiny seemed to hate him and there was a case on the weekend before the conference. Actually he didn't believe in destiny but his bad luck was easier to endure if he had something to blame for it. All he could hope for was that the crime would be solved in time but he knew he could not rely on that. Plus, his nights without much sleep hadn't made his brain work better, on the contrary.
As he climbed into the jet, firmly gripping his go bag, he decided he'd try to sleep after the briefing. They were flying to Vegas and he might get about four hours if he was lucky. He should work on the case but he was no good for the team if he arrived at the crime scene feeling wasted.
Twelve hours later the exhausted BAU team arrived at their hotel. They had only made little progress on their case and it involved child abuse which was always a highly depressing matter. On the jet Reid had dreamt of Riley Jenkins again but he had assumed it was because it had been a similar case and thus the nightmare hadn't really bothered him.
The receptionist handed them their keys but as Spencer wanted to turn away to the elevator with the others he held him back, announcing that someone had left him a message. In wonderment he received the note. If you get this before Sunday noon: Room 304, it said in the well-known writing he had previously seen on notepads and blackboards. He looked up and smiled at the concierge.
Several minutes later he had changed his clothes, combed his hair, shaved, brushed his teeth and stood in front of room 304, knocking audibly. As an elderly man with grey hair and a prominent nose opened the door he looked at him in bewilderment.
"I... uh... sorry, there seems to be a-"
"Ah, you must be Dr. Reid!", the man interrupted and put out his hand.
"Yes...", he answered, not quite understanding what was happening there. Had he somehow misunderstood the note? Did that man have the same handwriting as Charlie? But he was an expert on handwriting and had been pretty sure it had been the same!
"Oh, I'm sorry, I should probably introduce myself! My name is Alan Eppes, I'm Charlie's father."
Finally, the scales fell from Spencer's eyes. "Oh, I see!" He smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, I wasn't informed about this at all."
The other man shook his head and sighed. "I told Charlie to text you but apparently he wasn't listening. That's so typical... Please, do come in!", he gestured into the hotel room, "My son just went to buy us toothbrushes because we forgot to bring some. He'll be back any minute."
Spencer stepped into the room which looked exactly like his own except for the luggage in it, feeling a bit odd about meeting his boyfriend's father.
"How come you and Charlie are in Vegas?", he asked as Mr. Eppes closed the door, "I thought he had to prepare that lecture he is giving on Tuesday at the UVa."
"Well, yesterday I found Charlie hurriedly packing again and I asked where he was going. He told me he was going to Las Vegas. That was the second time he wanted to leave all of a sudden just to meet you and I thought this time I'll accompany him because I wanted to meet you, too. He was behaving rather weirdly in the last few days and I do hope you understand that I was a little worried."
Spencer shook his head and couldn't help smiling. "Of course I do."
Then Mr. Eppes leant forward expectantly. "So... What are your intentions?", he asked win a very serious air.
Spencer blinked. "Uh... Intentions?"
"Concerning my son!"
"Oh..."
"Is this relationship something serious? Because for him it is!"
"Yes of course it's serious! Mr. Eppes, I can't even begin to explain how much Charlie means to me! I've never loved anyone as much as I love him!"
The grey haired man nodded, apparently accepting his words. "I just don't want his heart broken, you see. He didn't have it easy with that brain of his. His insight on human nature isn't as good as his knowledge on mathematics and I don't want him to get hurt."
"I won't let this happen.", Spencer promised.
They heard someone open the door and before Spencer could even start to turn around he felt someone hurtling into him from behind, and then there were Charlie's arms around him, almost violently embracing him, pressing the air out of his lungs, and suddenly everything was as it should be. As his boyfriend loosened his tight grip around his chest Spencer managed to turn at last and to hold him properly. "You're being mad again, coming here just for me!", he whispered into his ear.
"That's how you like me most, admit it!", Charlie whispered back.
Spencer smiled and drew back. "I do."
Mr. Eppes cleared his throat. "So boys, how shall we do this?", he asked asked. "I think I'll leave you two to your date or whatever you want to call it and set out for my very fist night in this formidable town on my own..."
"No dad!", Charlie insisted, "I will not let you loose all alone in Vegas! We can go somewhere together."
"Only if you promise I won't feel like a fifth wheel!", his father replied just as stubbornly. "I have a feeling you'll only talk about things I don't even want to understand..."
"How about if we join my team?", Spencer suggested, "They're having dinner at a Chinese restaurant and left only ten minutes ago."
Charlie looked at him in relief. "That sounds good!"
Great, he thought, now I just have to tell the team who they are... He still hadn't told anyone about his new relationship, not even Garcia who had been so perceptive.
It hadn't been as bad as he had expected. Nobody had fainted or choked on their drink. No screaming fits or fits of hysterical laugher had erupted. And everyone had managed not to drop their chopsticks. Especially Morgan had reacted calmer on the announcement than he had thought. Penelope had apparently even heard of Charlie's work on game theory. She and the other girls seemed eager to know everything about Charlie, and between giggles they bombarded him with questions. All in all, everyone had been very friendly and nice and seemed happy for him.
Now Spencer was sitting opposite his lover and next to Hotch and JJ on the long table in the Chinese restaurant, losing a veritable war against his chopsticks while Morgan who was sitting to Charlie's left kept laughing at him.
"An IQ of 187 plus years of practice and still not able to use these!", his best friend joked, "Look Reid, it's easy!".
Morgan took a bit of red pepper between his own sticks and easily managed to eat it. Spencer couldn't help glaring at him for a second. In his eyes Morgan was just showing off. At least Charlie didn't seem to be impressed at all by his best friend's extraordinary chopstick skills.
"Increase the pressure on your index finger a little.", his boyfriend suggested quietly.
The slice of chicken didn't make it to Spencer mouth but landed right back on his plate.
Morgan still grinned but Charlie still didn't laugh. "Try an angle of approximately twenty degrees."
Spencer did as he was told and took up his reluctant chicken, carefully estimating the angle his chopsticks were indicating.
It worked.
He tried again.
It still worked.
Morgan stared and Charlie smiled at him.
"Why has nobody ever told me?", Spencer said after he had swallowed his food, shaking his head and frowning at his still half filled plate, "It's all in the angle!"
Morgan just tried not to smirk too noticeably.
Two and a half hours later Charlie was lying awake in the dark, his eyes fixed on the ceiling but not taking in what they saw and his left hand absentmindedly and very slightly stroking his lover's shoulder while his right was holding him close. He felt Spencer's weight heavy on him because they had not moved much after sex and he felt almost unbearably hot but didn't want to move for anything in this world. His boyfriend had rested his head on his chest and he saw from his occasional blinking that he was still awake as well. He felt Spencer's finger trace patterns on his upper arm but only after some time realised he was forming prime numbers. He smiled to himself and let the finger of his left hand begin to stroke his lover's skin in similar fashion, but he was creating letters. He felt Spencer's hand stop moving as he tried to make sense of what Charlie was writing. After he had spelled out the last verse on his lover's delicate shoulder blade Spencer finally moved his head to gaze back at him and asked, "How did you know the 130th sonnet was my favourite?"
"I didn't."
"I like it so much because it's deglorifying the lover and evokes a completely realistic, ungrateful picture of her, or in your version, him, and yet...", he was interrupted by a yawn, "...and yet the last couplet makes it a wonderful declaration of love."
Charlie had the impression that Spencer wanted to say more but he just blinked at him.
"But what is love? He never explains that, does he? I mean I can't really describe what I feel now but I'm sure you can explain it logically."
"Well, it's got a strong connection to the biological drive when you look at its biochemical correlate.", Spencer started, "However, considering the extremely long lasing effects of limerence, that is infatuation, it seems obvious that neuroendoctrine processes are the cause of the phenomenon of love. Basically your body sends out chemical messengers, or brain elements, such as dopamine, hydrocortisone, adrenaline and endorphin. Plus, you send out a lot more pheromones than usual which makes you more attractive to others. You do lose serotonin though which makes you behave a little like someone having a mental illness."
"Love is a mental illness?"
"Um. No. Just like a mental illness.", his lover corrected him, "Some parts of it, that is."
Charlie pretended he hadn't heard that. "So we're both officially mad now."
"Oh, but we have been mad before we fell in love."
"But now we're even more mad!", he insisted and heard Spencer laugh
